3 - 9 January 2002
Issue No.567
|
Al-Ahram Weekly Online 3 - 9 January 2002 Issue No.567 |
||
| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 | Current issue | Previous issue | Site map | ||
In praise of praise
Events seldom fall into the neat divisions we make of time. The last century, it can -- and has -- been argued, began and ended in Sarajevo. And this year started early, on 11 September, a date that will continue to reverberate well beyond the next 12 months. The events of that day will shape rather more than 2002, though in what direction continues to remain unclear. One thing, though, is predictable enough. Things are unlikely to get better.
Given the blasted nature of the landscape, it may seem a little redundant to cling onto old habits, to continue doing the things we have always done, though it is in the exercise of such rituals that a degree of comfort lies. And so, in the bleakest circumstances that I can remember, I found myself going through the usual end-of-year routines with an unusual sense of urgency. And not least among them was that seasonal exercise, the planning of New Year resolutions.
A prosaic activity, of course, but one reassuringly shared by many. A straw poll, in the office -- not a totally convincing cross section of the general public, I know, but necessity is the mother of invention, and they really were the only people available at the time -- revealed the divergent nature of ambition.
Canonical texts, in Arabic and English, and more poetry: one colleague is determined to improve her reading matter. I suggest she skip the 19th century, but she is determined.
A tidier, more organised office: this one has come up before, and it has, occasionally, made a difference, seldom lasting more than a week, but nice while it does.
photo: Youssef Rakha
Doing something particularly nice, for a different person, once a month: this from the office's most active gossip. A few less solecisms would probably do the trick.
The youngest of my colleagues seeks only to kick old habits, which is commendable enough in its way, if not very forward looking. The young, though, can afford such indulgences. He, incidentally, took the picture that accompanies this week's column, during a photographic phase last summer. He calls it Steps because, he says, it looks like someone is walking but there is no body there. Which is fair enough, I suppose. He took it, after all.
I, though, have been struggling. It would be sensible, of course, simply to repeat last year's resolutions, and this time try a little harder to stick with them. Last year, in addition to the portmanteau resolution of trying to be a little nicer -- wishy-washy, this, but the passing of the year can lead to an over indulgence in such platitudes -- I determined that I would be far more regular in my visiting of exhibitions: it is, after all, a part of the job, and one that I should relish a little more. But after more than a decade of Cairo gallery going, neither the flesh nor the spirit is particularly willing. One should, one really should, filter through the dross, searching for the gold. This I know. And I also know that it is not an attractive trait to pre- judge, to assume that just because every single exhibition a particular artist has had over the past ten years was bad that the next one will be. But try as I might, I know that this one is going to be hard to keep up. It all seems so long ago, when I was willing, even happy, to search for the wood despite the trees. No, it will be impossible to keep up. For having been to an exhibition, having been, particularly, to an opening, the expectation somehow automatically accrues that a review will appear on these pages the very next week. And it is a difficult expectation to fulfill.
It should not be so difficult, but then artists -- in terms of ego they fall somewhere between opera directors (the most egoistic of them all) and actors, neither of whom, I was once told, should be contemplated as life partners -- should not be quite so sensitive. Unless you are willing to proclaim that they are the best thing since sliced bread (which has never seemed to me to be a particularly good thing) then they will take umbrage. And if you have the gall to suggest that, actually, what they are doing is not really very good at all, or unforgivably derivative, or just plain banal, then there is always the danger that they will phone up the editor-in- chief, and complain, as has occasionally happened. There is, too, the danger that you will be struck from the gallery's mailing list, though this is not, perhaps, an outcome that would prove too difficult to bear.
And despite what people think, it is no fun to write a bad review. Better by far to find something positive to say. Better by far to praise. And if praise is impossible, better by far not to write anything at all. This line of thinking, though, holds no water with the artists. It is a no win situation. So this particular resolution is out.
Which leaves me with only the portmanteau one, the one I invariably make in that rush of sentimentality that accompanies the approach of midnight on the evening of 31 December, and in which one must flounder for a while, before emerging safely in the following year after having been kissed and kissing every single guest at the party. Such is the easy bonhomie of the moment. Such is the glut of niceness. And yes, this year I really am going to be a nicer person. And yes, this year there will be absolutely no bad reviews. And the pages will be full of praise.
© Copyright Al-Ahram Weekly. All rights reserved
 |
|
|||||||||||||||||
| ARCHIVES Letter from the Editor Editorial Board Subscription Advertise! |
WEEKLY ONLINE: www.ahram.org.eg/weekly Updated every Saturday at 11.00 GMT, 2pm local time weeklyweb@ahram.org.eg |
 Al-Ahram Organisation |
Recommend this page